White Flags and Yellow Roses
by NobleIntent
Summary: This is my fledgeling attempt to rectify the burgeoning animosity I've perceived between H&M this season. Sweet and simple, but it made me feel better!


Author's Note/Disclaimer: I lay no claim to these characters or to the show for any purpose whatsoever. I am not making any money from this meager endeavor, nor do I intend any infringement. Suing me would reap few rewards. (  
  
Wednesday, 2047 hrs.  
  
Harm tapped gently on his partner's apartment door and held his breath. She's probably out with Webb...she leaves a light on whenever she goes out at night...He waited another ten seconds before turning toward the elevator. Then, he heard the click of the lock.  
  
"Harm? What are you doing here?" Mac sounded sleepy and looked groggy, confusion marring her striking features. "Were we supposed to work on a case tonight?"  
  
"No, nothing like that. I just wanted to give you something." He pulled a long stemmed yellow rose from behind his back and leaned it toward her. Her puzzlement grew and she accepted his gift.  
  
"Harm, it's beautiful, but what's this for?" Mac's voice was laced with wonderment and surprise.  
  
With more confidence than he felt, Harm stated his intentions. "It's a peace offering. Long overdue, if you ask me. I don't want to fight with you anymore, Mac. I'm 40 years old, I have a child now, and for her sake and mine I need there to be calm between us." He did it...for once, he said what he intended to say and had rehearsed a hundred times in the past two hours.  
  
"Do you want to come in? I could put on some coffee and we could chat about this?" Mac opened the door a little wider, hoping that he would accept her invitation. Was this his white flag, waving in the open to signal his surrender in their game for two? Was he finally letting go, motioning for her to lower her defenses in exchange for lowering his?  
  
"I can't...Mattie is home, working on a project. I promised her that I would be right back. Look, I know that I haven't been the easiest or the most consistent personality with whom you've had the pleasure of working, but I honestly don't make a habit of trying to aggravate you. I know you believe the contrary, but you also know that I have always had your best interest at heart. The past can't be undone, but it can certainly be laid to rest. For my sanity, and yours as well, let's just declare a truce and tread a little more lightly around each other until we find clearer skies."  
  
"When do you think that will be?" Mac asked, looking at a scuff mark on the hardwood floor in the hallway.  
  
"When we learn how to talk to each other and listen. When we decide to process what is said before reacting to what we think we heard. Based on our track record, that may take awhile...", he quietly drifted off, looking at the same spot on the floor. "What if we never learn?" The melancholy was heavy in her voice as she clutched the rose that he had given her, unaware of the thorn piercing the flesh of her tender hand.  
  
Harm discreetly shuddered as Mac said the word "never" to him for the second time. He had to let her know that this was no longer an option, that he was preparing to take an alternate path and venture into untested waters. If she would accompany his remained to be seen. Here goes the Navy yard... "Someone told me never once before, and I'm still here. A little battered, a little bruised, but still loyal to her and finding myself suddenly open to the possibility that perhaps she was mistaken."  
  
Harm braced himself for her recourse, but hearing nothing, he risked looking into her sorrowful eyes. He saw a flicker of recognition, of awareness. Mac's eyes searched his, trying to process what she heard and the change that she saw in him. Was he right? Did he finally make her see? Was this all it took to smooth out the damage they had imposed on one another? Slowly, Mac looked up at his softened face, gently lined with years of adventure, turmoil, success, and failure. Her eyes were misty and unfocused, but she swore that there was an element of hope in his expression. Hope, and compromise. Speak, Sarah. Tell him he's right. Let go of your pride.  
  
"I know that someone...I think she would stipulate to that statement in the name of peace and possibilities...actually, I know she would," she whispered, as a tear escaped from the corner of her eye and trickled down her cheek. Harm traced it with his index finger and cupped her face in his hand. The tenderness in his eyes and in his touch finally communicated to her what she had been longing to see. He loves me. The way that it matters, he really loves me.  
  
Sarah moved closer and wrapped her arms around her partner's neck. She melted into his frame and inhaled the scent of his shampoo and cologne. Home. That's what this always felt like to her, but even more so now. Harm kissed the top of Sarah's head and whispered, "We can let go together."  
  
Recognizing the white flag she had been waiting for, Sarah relaxed into his embrace. "I just did."  
  
Gently, Harm released her, kissed her cheek, and smiled. Not his wide, confident, flyboy smile, but the small, satisfied smile of a little boy who knows that he has finally gotten it right. They could talk tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. There were many issues to resolve, but those could wait. Both reveling in their newfound peace, Harm padded down the hall toward the elevator, feeling free for the first time since he was five, and Mac stepped inside her apartment and breathed in the soft scent of the rose, feeling tranquil for the first time in her life. 


End file.
